


Some Fires Never Die

by RunawayDragons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, da/spn au mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDragons/pseuds/RunawayDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Alistair receives a letter from Warden-Commander Vaelyn Surana requesting his aid in a delicate matter. Her request comes as a surprise, as she has been missing for many years, after disappearing with her fellow Warden and romantic partner, Dean Winchester (see the unfinished Darkspawn & Pie fic).<br/>Takes place during the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition, and thus there are spoilers for that game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dearest Alistair,_

_How is that throne these days? Hopefully less uncomfortable, do you at least get to use a cushion now that you're older? Ah, I can tell even without seeing your face that you see through my jibes, and to continue them would be just be a waste of your time. Apologies._  
I know through Oghren that you've been asking about my disappearance, discreetly, but still asking, and your persistence has only increased since my "return". Bless his drunken heart, Oghren gave in a bit, and told you more than he should. He had his reasons, but that leaves me none the less displeased, with both of you.  
I write, as due to the current state of the world, I must leave nothing to chance. There is something of value, that should I be ~~killed~~ called away, will need more protection than some aging Wardens and an old hound can provide. You are one of the only living beings that would care for it as I do. Oghren would be as careful, but I've already burdened him with maintaining the Vigil, which is plenty for his old shoulders to bear.  
Please respond soon with a date we can meet. The location is one you know well. An old farm that I've told you of in the south.  
-Vaelyn 

The letter arrives mysteriously, appearing on his desk as if summoned by his presence. This doesn't surprise him, as if Vaelyn Surana was anything, it was surprising. He makes arrangements to travel south as soon as possible. It takes him some time to remember where the letter refers to; it is the smell of woodsmoke that triggers the memory.  
A cold night, three people and a hound clustered around a campfire. They'd arrived in Lothering that morning, and all that had to be done had hit them like a ton of bricks. Vaelyn had been increasingly restless as they'd entered the area. They would enter the town center in the morning, which gave each member of the party pause for their own reasons. He still remembers that this was the first time he had noticed that she was carrying as much grief as he was. Her voice broke the heavy silence,  
"This was my home once. Just over that hill, next to the treeline. The crickets used to sing so loud you had trouble sleeping. Guess the blight has sent them elsewhere. "  
Both Alistair and Morrigan had been surprised, and even went so far as to glance at each other with that emotion obvious on their faces. Alistair was the first to speak,  
"Really? I'd assumed you were from one of the alienages before living in the circle."  
Vaelyn had laughed, "Ha, everyone assumes that, even most of the other elves in the tower had. Only a few bothered to learn the truth. I lived on a farm, a farm my parents worked tirelessly on. Father bought it with the money he had made as a mercenary."  
She stared at the flames for a space of time long enough that it had made Alistair wonder if he should say something. Just when he'd worked up the courage to ask for more information, Morrigan beat him to it.  
"Do they still live there? We could've had a warmer place to rest, if so."  
"My mother died when I was young. As for Father, I do not know. We used to exchange letters once a month, but they stopped a few months ago. I asked the Knight-captain if I could leave the tower to find out why, he denied my request."  
That following morning Morrigan had headed over that hill, leading the way to the small house nestled at the edge of the woods. He remembers how tense his fellow Warden had been, her jaw set, teeth clenched as if bracing herself for a blow. The house had been empty, dust covering the handful of items not taken by looters. The fields untended, and the barn long empty. Vaelyn had found a book and an old mug, added them to her pack, and then marched back towards the road. She had never once looked back. 

Now Alistair returns to that little hill on the outskirts of Lothering, the sun is shining, birds are singing, and the land is healing from the blight that wiped out nearly everything a decade ago. His horse shifts impatiently beneath him, picking up on the slight thread of nervousness he feels. He fills his lungs with a deep breath of air, then rides down towards the small house below. The difference is incredible, the fields host rows of neatly planted crops, animals linger near the barn, and a couple of children run across the yard, giggling. A man raises a hand in greeting as Alistair approaches. 

"Hello there! May I help you?"

Sandy hair, a friendly smile, pointed ears, everything points to this man being just a farmer, but still Alistair is cautious. 

"Hello, sir. I was just riding through, and thought I'd see if an old friend was still living here."

Before the farmer can answer, the two children return, still laughing, they streak across the yard, in front of Alistair's mount, behind the farmer, and disappear into the barn. The giggling stops, and a small voice can be heard,  
"Mama! Mama! There is a big tall man on a horse outside!"

Alistair becomes uneasy as he notices the farmer tense and grip his pitchfork tighter. Worried that something is amiss, he tightens his own grip on the reins, ready to wheel his horse if needed.  
A figure appears in the barn door, and the world stops. Alistair's breath catches as he recognizes Vaelyn as she walks into the sunlight towards him. She has changed, which is only to be expected, as it has been almost 6 years since he last saw that brown hair or grey eyes. She smiles at him as she addresses the farmer, who relaxes, Alistair doesn't hear the words, he is too busy studying her. She looks healthy, her clothes are impeccable, rich fabrics in her favorite shades of dark purple, her boots are scuffed but well made, her swords attached to her back in their black leather sheaths. So much is the same, it is like she has stepped out of her office at the palace in Denerim all those years ago, rather than some barn in the farmlands of the south. 

"Alistair!"

Her voice is commanding and amused, snapping him back to life. He swings down from his horse then strides across the yard to embrace her. He hugs her tight, she resists for a heartbeat and then returns the hug with as much enthusiasm. They separate a moment, smile at each other and laugh, then hug briefly once more. She leads him to a spot behind the barn, where a table and chairs sit, the tabletop is covered with maps and papers, quills and an ink pot. Vaelyn offers him a seat before taking one across from him. They exchange small talk for awhile, giving themselves a chance to adjust.  
The children run across the yard again, and this time Alistair pays closer attention to them. Both children are elven and appear to be girls, the taller child has sandy hair tied back in a single braid, bright brown eyes, looks to be about seven or eight, and wears a tunic and skirt. The smaller child has much darker hair that has a braid pinned to her head like a crown, her eyes are green flecked gold, with freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, she wears a similar tunic and a pair of mud covered leggings, bare feet covered in dirt. She smiles at her playmate and he sees it, the resemblance. 

"The little one is yours, isn't she? She is why you had me come..."

The thought of Vaelyn being a mother had never occurred to him, most Grey Wardens don't have children, it happens, but it is extremely rare. He looks for the farmer, wondering. 

"The older one is Felwen's daughter, his wife is in town, she works at the inn. He is a cousin of one of my Wardens, I rent the farm to him for almost nothing, so he doesn't mind if I use it as a place to rest when I travel nearby."

She was always good at guessing his thoughts, but her attempt to change the subject isn't quite enough. He levels a questioning look at her, and doesn't release his stare until she continues talking. 

"Yes. The little one is mine. My Mary Brithari Surana is a force of nature, and she is already taller than I was at her age, thank goodness. She has Oghren wrapped around her little fingers, Sigrun has taught her how to pick locks already, Nathaniel says she has a way with the bow, and she reads very well for being only five. Most of the Wardens think she was an orphan I found, not a child of my own, not that that matters as she is the most loved person in the whole Keep."

He notes the pride in her voice, the smile that accompanies her words, and also the unsaid question she doesn't answer. He has a lot of unsaid questions, too many in fact. She left unexpectedly almost five years ago, she was gone for a little over a year, and then she had returned, alone, according to Oghren. Now he has even more questions.

"Is _he_ the father? Or is there someone else? And how can she be five years old if he is the father?" 

Vaelyn let's out a short bark of a laugh, then sighs. 

"Time isn't the same between here and his world, it doesn't seem linear, don't ask me how it works. I was happy there, no plan to return. Then I started getting weak, the different kind of magic there was fighting with my own, or at least that is my best guess. I had to come back here, he made me. I realized I was pregnant after I returned, which was probably for the best. When she was born with pointed ears I was amazed. Makes me wonder if magic might have more to do with why half elf children are born with round ears, perhaps a way to shame the elven parent? Something the ancient elves wanted to discourage?"

She plays with the sigil rings on her fingers, one for each of her titles, and gives him time to let everything sink in. Her words are full of old pain, old heartbreak, and hearing it makes him want to wrap his arms around her once again. He watches the children play, building little forts out of mud and sticks. Little Mary has her father's eyes and her mother's hair, he can see that now. He lets out a sigh, then changes seats so he is on the bench next to her. She doesn't move away, and doesn't seem to mind his hip touching hers. 

"It seems all my romantic relationships are doomed to end tragically wouldn't you say, Alistair? The hurt isn't so bad, time helps, as I'm sure you know. Mary helps too. And staying busy is good. Damn world doesn't seem to want to stay saved."

He laughs at that last sentence, and bumps her shoulder with his. The old hurt of their breakup is still there, he was young and terrified, she was stubborn and angry, he still feels guilt over how he handled everything, how he allowed Eamon to convince him that people would never approve of Vaelyn. By the time the blight was ended it was too late to go back. She was happy with Dean, and he had missed his chance. He was supposed to find a Queen and an heir, which had proven difficult; not many noble ladies were interested in that burden. He and Lyn had forgiven each other before she had disappeared. But now her head leans on his shoulder, a feeling he had long forgotten surges upwards, filling him with warmth and butterflies. 

"Leliana's Inquisition agents are looking for me. I've managed to evade them so far, but I can't keep dodging them forever. That whole hole in the sky thing with the rifts is a problem."

She sighs, then continues, "I heard you met this Inquisitor of Leliana's, at Redcliffe. What did you think of her?"

"To be honest, she reminded me of you when we were fighting the blight. That weight on her shoulders. She handled things as well as anyone could, and her team is impressive. Another elven mage trying to save the world, what are the odds?"

Being reminded of his kingly duties would normally make him want to get up and do something, but right now he is more comfortable then he has felt in ages, and he isn't about to give that up so easily. 

"The odds are never in an elf's favor, but I'm glad to hear she isn't just a figurehead."

Her fingers find his, and entwine around them. 

"I'm trying to figure out how this Elder One is connected to the disappearing Wardens and the current state of the world. I will need to make contact with the Inquisition soon.  
I need to know she is safe, Alistair. With the Calling so strong, the Vigil isn't as safe as it was. Being so far from the action, my Wardens are able to fight it easier, and the Keep is in lockdown. But it is no place for civilians if something happens."

He squeezes her hand, and takes a moment to think, watches Mary put the finishing touches on her fort. 

"Of course Lyn, I can take care of her. You won't have to worry. Is there any chance Dean might return? Should I prepare for that?"

"Thank you. No. He can't. Returning to his home almost killed him and his friend Cas. His family there needs him, his world needs him, and if I died trying to stay there for him, it would've broken him. We didn't know I was pregnant, I tried to send a message when she was born, don't know if it reached him." 

She pauses to take a deep breath, "At least I have found love, twice. What is that saying I heard? It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all? That sounds right."

He leans his head on top of hers, the smells of sword oil, magic, and the elfroot she always keeps in a leather pouch at her waist, fills his nose, and brings back old memories. His heart aches, partially because hers does too, and also because he has always loved her. This realization makes his throat dry, his skin hot.  
A voice can be heard calling for the children, he guesses by their reaction that it is Felwen's wife, returned from the village. They quickly disappear around the corner, leaving the king and the hero alone. He squeezes her hand, and fidgets with her rings, then stops. On her ring finger, a simple silver band rests, engraved with a dragon chasing stars, a gift from a young Templar a long time ago.

"You kept it." His voice comes out thick with shock and old feelings. 

She raises her head, and it takes her a moment to catch up, as she'd been lost in her own thoughts. She feels it then, the heat, the tinge of longing. An answering flutter in her stomach brings her own old feelings back to the surface. 

"Of course I kept it. Why wouldn't I?" She smiles, and tries to disentangle her hand from his, but he doesn't let go, and her heart flies up to her throat when she looks into those eyes. Maker, she'd forgotten she could even feel this way.

He moves closer, she can feel his breathing, see every new wrinkle, count the grey hairs on his temples, find that mole she used to kiss.

"Lyn, I'd very much like to kiss you..."

The little bit of restraint she'd been holding onto evaporates, and she closes that last little bit of distance quicker than he expects. She catches him by surprise, and relishes it, curling her free hand around the back of his neck, bringing him even closer. He completely surrenders, a moan slips out, which just eggs her on. The kiss ends with both of them gasping for air. 

"Maker's breath, that was worth the wait." He lets the words fall softly, and waits for her reaction. 

She smiles and then tickles the back of his neck, with the fingers that still rest there, he shivers involuntarily. Vaelyn does it once more before letting him go, making sure to slip out of his range while he is still out of sorts. 

"Come on, I will need help saddling our horses. It is a long ride to Denerim."

She gives him a wicked smile, and circles to the other side of the table so she can put her papers in the satchel that rests next to them. She works quickly and avoids eye contact, because everything is too strong and raw, and it is like it was decade ago. She hears him stand up, and busies herself, even more, with the careful stashing of her documents into their case.  
He isn't leaving, he's behind her, and her pulse is racing again. Warm hands grab her shoulders and spin her around, she gulps and tries not to meet his eyes. So he hugs her, soundly, wrapping her in an embrace that speaks volumes. Tells her how much he still loves her, misses her, repeats that age old apology, and it overwhelms her.  
She lays her head on his chest and tries not to sob, because she'd thought love was lost to her forever, and because part of her has always loved him, even when she was angry and hurt. And because she never thought she'd be lucky enough to find true love once, let alone twice. 

"I'd ask you to stay with me in Denerim, but we both know you'd say no. At least while this Elder One threatens everything. But Lyn, I want you to know, that I meant what I said, I will protect and love Mary with everything I have while you're off saving us all, again. And that I don't plan on making the same mistake twice."

She closes her eyes and burrows her face deeper into his padded tunic, and just for a moment thinks of only of what is happening right now, enjoying being loved again. She breathes in, breathes out, opens her eyes so she can study that stubbled chin and the warm brown-gold eyes above it. 

"Well then, guess I better get you squared away with Mary in Denerim, because I have some unfinished business with you once the end of the world is canceled."

"That's my dragoness."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content.

He can't sleep. Too many things going through his head, nerves unsettled, he paces around his room, going over things again and again. Back and forth, back and forth, he walks, he glances down and notices that the carpet is starting to look worn, years of his nightly routine taking its toll on the poor thing. The steady clatter of a guardsman on night duty is heard as they pass the partially open door. He'd doubled the guard after learning about the Venatori, and their part in the mage's takeover of Redcliffe. He shouldn't have let Lyn and Mary come here, it is far too dangerous in Denerim at the moment.   
A glance at the clock tells him it is a little past midnight, so most of everyone else residing in this end of the palace should be asleep. He'd given a room to Lyn only a little ways down the hall from his own, which had caused Eamon to give Alistair that all too familiar look of intense disapproval. It was the same look he had received when he'd asked Anora to become an advisor and ambassador, and returned her father's properties and title to her. She'd become a friend, time helped smooth over the feelings left over from the Landsmeet. Her room is also in this wing, although she rarely uses it, as Anora is always traveling.   
His feet has led him in the direction of Lyn's room, and he would be lying if he denied that that hadn't been part of the reason he'd decided to go for a stroll. Her door is ajar, and light streams out into the hall. Alistair pads up quietly, his well worn slippers barely making a sound. A peek inside reveals Vaelyn sitting at her desk, surrounded by her ever present collection of papers, maps, and journals, a few large books also take up space on the edges of the desk. She rests her chin on a hand, the other holds a quill, poised above a mostly blank page. The sight is familiar, as long as he has known her, she has always been writing, taking notes, keeping track of everything, planning ahead, studying things, etc.   
A quick glance to other parts of the room shows Mary asleep in the big four poster bed, a huge hound asleep at her feet. The mabari looks just like his father, Dane, Lyn's hound, except the ears are a little bigger. Ser Reginald Stub Tail, Mary had told Alistair the dog's name, her face incredibly serious, eyes daring him to even think of laughing. He could tell other grownups had made fun of the mabari's name more than once, so he made sure to always address Ser Stub Tail with respect. This had quickly earned him approval, and Mary had been more open and friendly since.   
He lingers in the doorway, content to watch Lyn scribble away while he remembers the good parts of their ride back to Denerim from Lothering. Her hair is down from it's usual bun, braided loosely, as long as her torso. A memory of the only time he'd seen it loose comes to the front of his mind, her hair haloed around her head, both of them sleepy and naked, sunlight streaming through their tent, almost a decade ago. That thought brings heat, making him shift, the doorframe creaks, alerting her of his presence. Lyn stops writing and looks up from her work to find Alistair watching her. She'd felt him near, but had been engrossed in her work, so she had not looked up until now. He is dressed much the same as her, breeches, slippers, loose shirt, although his shirt is half undone, giving a peek of the golden brown hair on his chest. She smiles slightly and raises a questioning eyebrow, his response is to blush, then straighten from embarrassment. He'd been like this ever since their encounter at the farm, awkward, adorable, usually at a loss for words, old emotions reignited. Making a King feel flustered just by her presence, well, it only had been egging her on. She'd thought any chance of the two of them being more than friends had died long ago. To find out that they have a second chance? Well, it had been confounding, but also, made her feel things again she thought she had lost forever. She had done a lot of thinking on that ride, but now she is ready for action.   
Swiftly and silently she rises from her seat, she heads directly for Alistair, grey eyes bright. Before he can react she grabs one of his hands and pulls him out into the hallway, closing the door behind her with her free hand. He doesn't resist when she pushes him against the wall, and leans her body against his. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach his lips, but once he realizes what she is doing, her bends forward to meet her. The kiss is long, hands wander, she runs her fingers along the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. After a few intense minutes they break apart to catch their breath. He smiles a wicked smile, loving the flush that now covers all of her face and neck.   
"Hello." his voice is husky, playful, it makes her want to remove his shirt and run her hands over his bare skin.   
"Hi." The single syllable slips from her lips in response, she smiles enticingly before running a finger idly over any visible skin on his torso and arms. Goosebumps pop up in response, he growls slightly, causing her to smile more. She continues to tease him, enjoying the sounds of enjoyment and frustration that slip out. He lets her have her fun as long as he can, but the need to touch her back eventually overwhelms him.   
One of the perks of staying fit is how easy it is for him to pick up the short elven woman, despite how heavily muscled she is, in her own right. The squeak of surprise she makes as he scoops her up is extremely pleasing to his ears. She notices his smile of triumph, and begins nibbling at the ear that is now in reach.   
She continues to nip and kiss as he strides down the hallway. They're on his bed before she knows it, door closed, room only lit by the large fire in the hearth. They take turns removing each other's clothes, she giggles when he makes a frustrated sound when her breeches prove bothersome. The feeling of skin on skin brings her a feeling of peace she wasn't expecting, a feeling of home, of being right where she belongs.   
His fingers roam her body, reacquainting themselves with her, tracing scars, new and old. They pause when they come to the ones on her left side and hip. Old and tough, the scar tissue is thick and puckered. His breath hitches as the memory comes unbidden. Her slumping against him, feeling blood on his hands, carrying her limp form to the camp. Wynne and Morrigan working to save her life. The hunger abomination's tooth clattering into the bowl. The waiting to see if she would ever wake up again. Alistair relives it all in a matter of seconds, then bends down to kiss every part of the damaged area.  
Her breath hitches occasionally as he continues kissing and tasting her skin, letting his lips linger on the inside of her thighs, enjoying the sounds of approval she makes as he continues back up towards the warmth between her legs. He is relentless in his teasing. She bucks and moans as his tongue finds all the best spots, his fingers assisting as needed. Her blood buzzes, and coherent thought is impossible, all she can do is feel, crave release. Just when she feels like she cannot possibly take anymore, he finally helps her over the edge, and is rewarded with his name repeatedly gasped out loud in a breathless voice.   
She takes a moment to catch her breath, her pulse pounds in her ears as she watches him stretch out next to her. He has a few new scars too, but otherwise he looks much the same as the Alistair she remembers. Once she can hear more than her own heartbeat, she goes to work teasing him as soundly as he had teased her.   
She starts with gentle touches, remembering how sensitive he is, how the lightest brush of fingertips along his bare skin can steal his breath away faster than anything else. After that she finds the closest nipple and begins her assault in earnest. He groans, sending a thrill down to her toes. She continues her teasing, eventually ending up on top of him so she can reach the other nipple.   
Things continue to escalate until they are both breathless and spent. She carefully rolls off of him, kissing the corner of his mouth before making her way to the washstand. Once cleaned up, she pulls her small clothes and shirt back on. He does the same, then joins her back in the bed, this time both under the covers, rather than on top. His mind is calm, and she cuddles up to him, head on his arm. They fall asleep, his arms wrapped closely around her, her fingers entwined around his own.  
His dreams are not memorable, and when morning arrives he feels well rested. He can still feel Lyn nestled against him, which feels so very right, a hole he had forgotten he had, filled once again. It is then he feels it, a large warmth has pinned his legs under the blankets. He opens his eyes to find Ser Stub Tail asleep at the foot of the bed. If the hound is here, where is Mary? He glances over at Lyn, wondering if he should wake her? But there is Mary, nestled in her mother's arms, sleeping soundly. Alistair is surprised, but he isn't annoyed or bothered by this development. He is comfortable, the room is chilly, but the bed is warm, and he feels peace.   
He reawakens a while later, a weight on his chest making him uncomfortable.   
"Is there going to be breakfast soon?" The little voice is quiet but insistent. Alistair opens his eyes to find a freckled face hovering in front of his own, green eyes watching him closely.   
He smiles at the little girl, "Hungry?" he asks.   
She nods her head solemnly, little wisps of brown hair waving about her face. She lets him shift so he can sit up in bed, but never takes her eyes off of him as he reaches to pull the cord next to the bed that will summon a servant.   
A knock at the door sounds before it is opened. The servant bows and then carefully takes Mary's breakfast order, Alistair orders the rest, and then talks with Mary while they wait. The five year old tells him stories, stories of her adventures at the Vigil, and he is a bit surprised to find how interesting he finds her tales. Who knew a child this young could captivate a king?


	3. Chapter 3

They enjoy a week together. Lyn's stuff is moved into his room, Mary's into the one right next to his, the one with an adjoining door. Every day he attends to ruling Ferelden as usual, with small exceptions; Lyn sits in on some of his meetings with the few advisors who can be trusted. They manage to sneak more private moments together, acting like their younger selves, unable to keep their hands off each other.  
Lyn shows him Mary's routine, teaches him the little things only a parent would know. Through the whole week he finds himself continually amazed by this little person, how smart she is, how kind she is, how she gobbles up new information.   
Lyn catches him watching the little girl spar with a young squire almost twice her age, and height, what she lacks in size she more than makes up in speed and agility. Her bare feet move with an innate nimbleness, always keeping her one step ahead of the older child. By the time the bigger one finally lands a blow she has scored him with a dozen smaller hits across his body. The boy looks triumphant, but that look disappears when the instructor informs him if it was a real battle he would be dead from blood loss shortly. Little Mary doesn't gloat, she just listens to the instructor's critiques, nodding occasionally. It is only once he has moved on that she runs towards Alistair, eyes aglow with triumph. Lyn watches the two of them talk about her match, and finally feels okay. She had been worried that Mary wouldn't be alright with staying with Alistair. Leaving her at the Vigil would have been easier, but she couldn't take any chances with what is going on with the other Wardens.  
Later on Alistair mentions how impressed he is with Mary's ability in sparring practice. Lyn chuckles, then wiggles her cold toes in deeper beneath his thigh. They're sitting on the couch in the study, hound and child asleep on the rug before the fire.   
"It was not my intention, but fighting is part of life for us. As you know I have my own drills I run through every morning, that is where it started I think. Then she would see Nate or Oghren running the recruits through drills and sparring practice. One day Sigrun caught two year old Mary trying to fight one of her dolls with a knife. So she decided the pup was in need of her own weapons, and made her a set of dull wooden daggers. Twice a week, if she was well behaved, Sigrun would work with her. Last year, Zevran started showing her things. Alburt and Nate also made her a bow, which she is quite good with."  
Alistair can see how proud Lyn is, love is evident in the way she talks of her daughter. He gets it, because in the short time he has known this little person, he has fallen in love with her as well. He can see both her parents in her, which is good. Dean was his friend, practically a brother, and sometimes his misses having someone like that around.  
"My note reached the Inquisition, so that should throw most anyone else who is looking for me off the trail. I have to leave tomorrow."  
She doesn't say it, he doesn't either, neither of them want her to go. They content themselves with cuddling closer, and trying to memorize everything about this moment of peace.


	4. Chapter 4

Morning dawns, and she is ready to leave. Saddle bags are packed, pack mule is set too. She wears her traveling clothes under lightweight drakescale armor, sword and dagger sheathed on her back once more. She looks like an elven mercenary, as is the intention.   
"Mama?"   
"Yes, love?"  
Lyn's arms are wrapped tightly around her child, her face buried in her hair.  
"Be careful, and please come back soon."  
"I will ma vhenan."  
Lyn does her best to smile as she kisses each of Mary's freckled cheeks, but Alistair can see the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Lyn smooths a hand over the top of her child's head, then carefully hands her to Alistair. Mary wraps her arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. Lyn steps back, memorizing the image of the two of them together, something to help her get through what is ahead. She sighs, then wraps both of them in one more hug, tight enough to make him grunt, and make Mary giggle. Lyn kisses Alistair, hard, with meaning, then kisses Mary's cheek one last time.  
It only takes her a moment to climb into the saddle of the big bay mare, once she is settled she smiles down at the two most important people in her world.  
"Take care of each other."  
"We will Lyn."  
She blows a kiss, then sets off at a trot, hooves clattering on the courtyard stones. They watch until she is out of sight, then for a little longer. Mary never loosens her hold on his neck, and he holds her just as tight. Ser Stub sits patiently next to Alistair's feet, tail wagging every now and then, hoping there will be breakfast soon.


End file.
